Angela: An Angel's Tale
by Greendayluvr93
Summary: BEING EDITED! Has anyone ever wondered that heaven really isn't paradise if you're a bold, outspoken angel with opinions? This is a story about Angela's life. **I'm not that good at summaries. Critiques are most appreciated.**
1. Chapter 1: The Fall

Just a quick note, Michael is a biblical archangel.

Pure. Everything must be pure, everything, no exceptions. Yes, that's right. That was what they always told me, what Michael always told me. Angels had to be pure, no exceptions, none at all. I am pure as is he. Why must we cater to such dirty things? Why must we protect them from the demons they so willingly summon? Why do we have to help those deviants when the moment after we do, they turn their backs on us? We get nothing in return. Michael says it is because we are pure, but what does purity have to do with repayment? What does it have to do with retribution? Those humans do not repay us. They are impure. They do not deserve our assistance. They, like us, should be pure before we consider intervening for them.

When I voice my opinions, I get shot down, reprimanded, scolded and hit. "Is you violence pure Michael?" I ask Michael with very un-angelic sarcasm dripping from my voice. "This pain is holy." He responds as he lashes out with the whip. Again and again he hits me. Again and again I scream. I cannot move because I am hanging from the wall on wooden pikes. Isn't heaven just wonderful? For the humans maybe. They never see this, the punishment for an angel speaking her mind. "This blood is atonement for your sins Angela." He murmurs as he continues to strike.

"What have I done wrong? I am pure! I am!" I cry out, but to no avail. "You shouldn't have those thoughts about the humans. They have weaknesses, but they are our masters. We serve them." The archangel replies to me harshly. He really isn't as kind as humans think he is. "I don't want to serve them." I admit quietly, barely feeling the harsh lashes he is giving. By now, my dress is already ruined. Most of it lies on the floor in tatters. My hands ache from the pikes stabbing through my palms and my torso stings from the many gashes.

This isn't the heaven humans think of. This is the heaven they deserve, the punishment, the pain, but it isn't the one they get. Those dirty rats get the paradise. "I hate them Michael." I say with a mocking, almost coy smile as I tilt my head. "I hate every last one of them because they are dirty, filthy vermin that aren't fit to lick the scum from a pure angel's shoe!" I yell this amidst bouts of laughter and my body shakes from the hysterical sobs and giggles that ripple through it. "The unclean. The defiled. The dirty thing. Be destroyed. Be purified. This pain is blessed by the god! Blood is the offering to atone the sin!" He bellows as his strikes with the whip get harder and more frequent.

I laugh again despite the pain. The blood that falls from my open wounds pools on the otherwise white floor and stains the tile. Oh how I will remember those hated words! I will use them in the future. Of this I am sure. I will say this to the humans that I clean. They need to be cleaned. They must be as pure as I am! "You're like a demon Angela, a slave to your own will, your own desires." That is it! That comment is the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. "If I am, than I must be perfect don't you think? The perfect balance of black and white, of good and evil, of birth and destruction, of sin and virtue?" I question him quietly with yet another sarcastic, cold smile.

White encompasses me and a bright light surges as I spread my wings. For a few moments, I even go blind and see nothing but white as my eyes harden to a solid silver. I can feel the pikes splinter in my hands and I feel the hard landing when I fall from the wall, but I don't care, no not all. "What do you think Michael? Hmmm?" I ask wickedly as I crush his skull. I am aware of what I am doing, but still, I cannot see. Once the white fades from my eyes, my sight slowly comes back. That is the price I pay for my power. "Oh! How the mighty have fallen!" I exclaim loudly as I bend over and pick up his holy whip. This is something that I decide to keep.

"Unclean! Defiled! Dirty! Be destroyed Michael! You were not pure enough. You were never pure enough! This blood is atonement for your sins!" I cackle as I viciously smack the whip against his already dead body. This feels wonderful! Fantastic, really. Finally, I am doing something about the impurity! Finally, I can cleanse the world beginning with archangel himself.

I can feel it. I am falling again. Before I plummet from the skies, I crouch down and plant a taboo, coldly sarcastic kiss on his cooling body's lips. No, he will never forget me. It was not a demon that killed the famed Michael. It was I: Angela Blair, the only angel pure enough to refuse to stoop down and lick the filthy boots of humanity. Yes, I am bloody and yes, I am bruised but no, I am not dirty. I am not defiled or worthless. I am very, very pure and humanity will soon see just how far I am willing to go to make them the same as I.

As I fall downward through the inky black heavens, I notice a child with blueish hair laughing with his parents. I know who they are because I recognize the boy's father. Oh, I know the fate of that child because I know of his father. He is a dirty man, a dog if I ever saw one. He does the dirty work and he must pay for getting involved with such scum. I won't use my whip on him, no. Now is not the time. A holy fire is what they need. Their pain will atone for their sins and that child will die before he can become impure like his damned father.


	2. Chapter 2: The Doll

I continue to plummet downwards, smiling all the way. I will hit the earth soon if I don't spread my wings to save myself from the impact. The entire human race will be purified, no matter what the cost may be. It might take a l bong time, but I know that I will be successful because I will use any means necessary to cleanse those dirty beasts.

I wait until the very last moment before I open my wings and save myself the pain of landing on the ground. The first thing I notice is that my injuries seem to sting more on earth than they did in the heavens. It isn't something I can't deal with, but it is annoying. I can't heal these injuries myself, but I can hide them at least.

Tonight it seems that I'm lucky because there aren't too many humans about on this nearly vacant road. Perhaps this is the path less traveled by? Or maybe they're just too frightened of the dark to come outside? It's probably that last one. Those humans are naturally afraid of the dark because of what could be in it. It's pathetic really, how they can't be brave enough to face the fear of seeing a demon face to face or fighting one head on. Their boogeyman is nothing more than another impure creature like themselves, but humans will never understand. How can they? They aren't intelligent enough.

With a small sigh, I allow myself to flicker to my other persona: The man known as Ash. I know what England is like, especially at night. Women here are looked down upon and while I certainly am capable of purifying any human that dares to touch me, I don't want to bother with exerting my energy to do so at the moment. Besides, I have better things to do and plans to lay.

I need to find servants and find at least one pure human being as well as a few other things like burning down that filthy manor. I won't set it ablaze myself of course. I will find some pawns to do it for me, perhaps a cult of some sort. Those groups seem to be easily persuaded if I speak to them and they are easy to get rid of once I have use for them. Group suicide is common in human cults. It wouldn't be that hard to stage.

When I hear the sound of a man lightly clearing his throat, I rapidly turn around. Why hadn't I heard him and more importantly, how much has this man witnessed? With a tilt of his head, said man begins to sing. How queer. "The London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. The London bridge is falling down, my fair _lady_."

The emphasis he places on the word "lady" and smile that accompanies it makes me frown. He did see it, all of it most likely otherwise he wouldn't be grinning like that. I could kill him now, but I see that this human might make a good pawn. He had managed to walk near me without me hearing him and that is quite a feat. Since he can creep around like that, he might be a useful puppet for spying or getting things done in secret. Of course, he would have to be cleaned first if he is to become a long term servant.

"What exactly are you speaking of?" The man laughed quietly. "Why, you of course. A woman's body is always more delicate than a man's, even when it comes to the puppets." His violet eyes look up at me.

"Even as a man, your face seems too effeminate to be male and your wings lead me to believe that you aren't even human. Such a nice doll, you would make. Build it up with silver and gold, silver and gold, silver and gold. Build it up with silver and gold, my fair lady." He murmurs in a sing-song voice as he reaches into a pouch on his hip to withdraw a a small puppet with the likeness of a clown. I know now that he must have seen my wings as well, but that cannot be helped.

"Build what out of silver and gold?" He laughs again. "You are two different genders are you not? Like man and woman, silver and gold are very different, but they mesh easily when one knows how to combine them. Your doll must be made of such complimentary elements, but then again, silver and gold always get snatched."

How odd this man is! Why isn't he running or bowing down like most humans would? Is he insane? He really does seem like it, but he is interesting. He might make a good servant after all. "You should be on your knees before such a pure being. Haven't your masters taught you that?" There was no way that this human was wandering without a purpose. He had to be a servant to somebody.

"The Mandalay family has already died. They were murdered in their mansion. The only survivor has run away." He uses his clown puppet with sharp teeth and a false voice to speak. Again I think of how different he is. "But you are correct fair lady. A servant such as myself should always respect his master's wishes and my late master always told me to be polite." He murmurs in his own voice now as he sinks down on one knee.

"What exactly do you do? I might have a job for you." I tell him as I look down at him. "I am a puppeteer as well as a maker of dolls. Are you offering me a job?" I nod, but with a frown. "Only if you will allow yourself to be purified before you begin your work. We will need a private place to speak about my terms." The puppet master smiles and nods at me as he stands. "The Mandalay mansion is very close to here. The scene isn't pretty, but the Yard won't be there until morning."

I suddenly get the feeling that he has killed the family he was working for, but no matter. I will purify him and he will be able to work for me. I silence, I follow him to a fairly large mansion and frown when I walk inside. In the foyer, there are two small bodies spattered in their own blood. No doubt they deserved it, being impure humans, but it was so unclean. Their blood was putrid. "Please excuse the mess, fair lady." The man mutters. It occurs to me that I do not know his name.

"What do you call yourself?" I question as he shuts and locks the door. I know for sure now that he is the one who killed this family. Under normal circumstances, a puppeteer would never have the key to a mansion. He is silent for a moment as if he is thinking. "Drocell. Now, about this job... I really do need one and I am willing to do whatever it is that the fair lady wishes." Excellent.

"Firstly, do not refer to me as 'fair lady' anymore. You will call me master. Secondly, you will take on a new life in a few moments. Think about that. Thirdly, you will never disobey me." I tell him as I rest a hand on the hilt of my sword that lies against my hip.

"Now, be purified! Allow your blood to atone for your sin!" My sword rapidly slices through the air and cuts through Drocell's neck. Without wasting any time, I use my power to force the soul within the young girl's corpse into the newly deceased man. Drocell's own soul simply would not do. It was simply too old. The soul of a child would be easier to control than the soul of an adult.

With a frown, I take off the dead Drocell's shirt and use it to wipe the blood from my sword then from the man himself. I walk up the stairs of the mansion and find his master's bedroom. No servant of mine will dress too poorly. In the master's closet, I find a decent looking blue coat, a white shirt and pants along with a pair of shoes and a top hat. These will do nicely. I also notice a small stash of money in the closet and pocket it. I will need money if I am to continue with my plans.

As I walk down the stairs, I hear a song. "Build it up with wood and clay, wood and clay, wood and clay. Build it up with wood and clay, my fair lady." Ah, so he is up already? He must have taken my advice about considering what he would like to be in a new life. I hear him announce, "I'm made of wood and clay, yet I'm still human. Still human!"

I can't help the laugh that escapes my lips. Human? No, he is not human. He is merely a puppet, _my_ puppet to be exact. "Drocell, put these clothes on and leave this mansion. Wait until everything is cleaned by the police before you return. When you return, begin to make dolls and animate those dolls so they will obey me as you do. You should know how to do this. Understand?" I ask him as I walk up to him.

The man looks up at me with wide eyes and smiles for what I'm sure is the last time. "Yes master." He says solemnly as he bows. How nice. He finally knows his place. I simply nod to him and take my leave of the mansion. He will make me an army that I can use at my disposal. Dolls are not human so they will not be impure. They will be fit to purify the humans that must be killed for their transgressions.

As I walk down the street, I hear the wooden man's footsteps echoing in the opposite direction. Good. I don't want anybody to know about him just yet. Now I walk in the direction of a well known tavern so I have a place to sleep tonight. It is a good thing I took that dead man's money. After procuring a room, I immediately go to it and fall asleep on the uncomfortable bed. Tonight, I am glad. My plans to purify the world are coming along nicely in my mind. I have one servant and I'm sure that more will follow him.


End file.
